


You Have Redeemed Me

by C_RIE_ativity



Series: Harry Declan Mitchell and Redeemed John Mitchell Verse [1]
Category: Being Human (UK), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adopted Children, Adopted Harry Potter, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Confused John Mitchell, F/M, Harry Potter was Adopted by Other(s), Harry Potter was Raised by Other(s), Mitchell's A++ Parenting, Protective John Mitchell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 07:33:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13290090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/C_RIE_ativity/pseuds/C_RIE_ativity
Summary: John Mitchell was just going to work for his night shift when he saw a basket on the front porch of his rather disagreeable neighbours lying there forgotten. He could hear crying coming from the basket and when he looked, he was alarmed to find a baby with a lightning shaped scar on his forehead. He didn't really think his actions through but the next thing he knew, he picked up the basket and went back to his house.Basically a Dad!Mitchell AU with some alterations on timelines here and there.





	1. Doing The Right Thing

**Author's Note:**

> **Chapter Summary:**  
>  _Mitchell sees and adopts an abandoned baby on 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey._

John Mitchell, now aged eighty-eight, was on his way to work as a bartender at a pub of a fair amount of distance from his neighbourhood. Donning a dark coat, he went out and locked his front door, his breath misting the moment he exhaled. The cold was no stranger to him but he still felt the numbness of the cold outside as it melded with the cold of his body. Bringing up his fingers, he blew on it in an attempt to warm his hands despite knowing that his attempt would be futile.

He often walked to work, and this day was no different. It was only a day or so ago that he had been giving candy out to children who came trick-or-treating at his door. He smiled faintly at the memory, children were safe for him, he found that out a fair amount of time ago. He never felt like he needed to feed from them. No. He just wanted to offer them what he could. And if they were in danger, he wanted to protect them.

Beyond that, he was relieved to find no desire to feed from them whatsoever.

Pulling up his coat collar to shelter himself from the cold air, he began his walk to work when he chanced upon a curious sight. Well, as curious as a basket on the front porch of a house would be.  _It might be simply the laundry._ He told himself as he made to move on, he knew it was a bit of a fib on his end that it was a basket of laundry.

The Dursleys always did bring their laundry baskets back in, he always had the misfortune of chancing upon them when he was seeking solitude so he found out their habits through unwilling observation. Though to the Dursleys, he was a young troublemaker that would influence their son horribly. He snorted at that, he would never approach their child despite his fondness for children. That was one child he can't find himself to like. Besides, they would always talk about the reckless youngster living next door, always within earshot, always in his presence, he could easily have told them that he was older than them by decades but he doubted that would help him with anything.

Shaking his head from his wandering thoughts, he cast another look at the basket and shrugged, he was sure that that was just nothing. Thinking it best to move on, he made to move away only for him to suddenly hear wailing. He stilled.

Who would be crying? The streets were empty save for him. Looking behind him, he found no one and he frowned before he managed to piece together what he'd come across that day. Turning his head in the direction of the basket on the Dursleys' porch, he frowned and moved carefully towards the basket and looked down. His eyes widened at what he saw.

A baby. Dark hair, red-faced and crying, a scar shaped like lighting on his forehead. Mitchell looked at the door of the Dursleys house, then back at the baby, a part of him warned him that he should think his actions through, but another part urged him to take the child. To keep him safe and give the child a home best he could.

 _The child is on the Dursleys' doorstep._ A part of his mind argued,  _He is not your problem, nor is he your responsibility._

 _But the Dursleys are not the best of people._  Yet another part of his mind threw back, the part of him that fought against taking the boy snarled,  _You are a monster, you will hurt the child._ Mitchell closed his eyes, knowing that that fear of his was still a possibility no matter how much he cared for children. So lost in thoughts was he that he was abruptly pulled out of his inner argument when the baby's wailing grew louder.

Without thinking, he moved instinctively, picking up the baby and cradling the infant close to his chest. The child won't hear a heartbeat from him, nor will he be able to offer body warmth but he would be able to offer the warmth from his coat.

"Hey," He carefully rocked the child, bending down to pick up the basket to erase evidence of the little one's existence, "hey, you're okay now." He whispered, looking at the Dursleys' front door again before he shook his head and began walking back to his house. He'll have to call in sick, he's never missed a workday without good reason so his boss would understand.

Making his way to his house didn't take too long, the child had stopped crying and had clutched to his shirt, snuffling softly. Managing to unlock his door, he nudged the door open wider with his foot, kicking the basket inside before he went in. Looking at the fireplace in his house, he figured that the infant would need more warmth and went over to a pile of firewood he'd managed to store inside his house. He was always a bit of a peculiarity for some of his neighbours, but the fireplace and firewood was a welcome familiarity from his days as a human. His dad would always have a stack of logs prepared for the winter and he had taken to that habit even after everything. Taking a log with one hand - the other keeping hold of the baby - he threw the log into the fireplace and he figured he may as well add two more.

He didn't want to put the baby down anywhere but he knew that he needed both hands to light a fire, he sighed and went to his sofa, gently settling the child down on it, motioning for it to stay put. (He knew it to be highly unlikely that the little one would be able to understand him.) Carefully backing away towards the fireplace, he gave the infant a last glance before he got to work on the fireplace. When a fire had been lit, he was about to make his way back to his sofa when he saw the basket the baby was in. He sighed and picked it up.

That was when he saw the letter. It was addressed to Mr. and Mrs. Dursley of 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. The handwriting was neat and elegant and the paper felt almost like parchment.

He knew he shouldn't open others' mail.  _But,_ his mind reasoned with him,  _you did basically take the child in for yourself. The note may have answers to any questions you might have._

Without sparking an internal argument with himself, Mitchell opened the letter.

In it read;

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,_

_First of all I want to tell you that I am very sorry about the late happenings in your family. I am just as sorry as you are about the loss of your sister / sister in law and husband in law. They were really good people. Maybe I am able to cheer you up a bit, also I know that you don't like the way your sister / sister in law lived, but as you are reading this letter, you will also have seen that little baby. His name is Harry and he is also your nephew. You lost your sister but got a son._

_Be a good family for him. As soon as he turns eleven, he´ll get another letter from us._

_When he is old enough, tell him about his history and that his parents died in a fight with the most evil person of the dark side._

_Yours sincerely_  
_A. Dumbledore_

Mitchell reread the letter a few more times, disbelief and horror drowning him, bringing him back to the wars he had fought in and all the families torn apart through disease and gunfire and ashes before the baby let out a distressed wail that brought him back to the safety of his humble home in Surrey, his head snapped up to look at the crying child and he immediately rushed to the sofa to pick up the babe, gently rocking him and shushing him.

"Hey, hey, it's okay, you're okay now," He murmured, pressing a kiss to the baby's forehead, "you're safe now." All he gathered from the letter was that the boy's - Harry's - parents, were murdered fighting some sick bastard and that the Dursleys were supposed to raise him. He snorted, as if they would be able to give the boy a proper upbringing. He'd spent a fair amount of years seeing many kinds of people and the Dursleys were not one he would be willing to leave an orphaned child to.

"I hope you won't mind me as your..." He drifted away from what he was about to say, what would he be to Harry? A father? An uncle? An older brother? He swallowed thickly, "whatever I'll be to you." He remembered that when he was a human all he wanted to be was simply to be a husband and father.

That chance was torn away from him when the war came.

So this chance, it made him hope. But he also dreaded such a chance. Would he be a good father for a child that might have repressed trauma of his parents' murder? Would he be capable of offering comfort and reassurance to someone so in need of it? He can't really know.

 _Until you try it._ A treacherous part of his mind whispered tauntingly.

"Harry Mitchell," He tested slowly, he didn't want to address the reason behind giving his surname to the child but he wanted to just  _try_  it. It didn't sound right to him and he furrowed his brows, pacing back and forth with the baby in his arms, he suddenly paused in his steps when his father's name sprung up in his mind, he pondered on it and carefully tested the addition.

"Harry Declan Mitchell," He smiled, it sounded right, "that sound good to you?" He asked the baby who had quietened when he was rocking it, the infant looked at him curiously and babbled incoherent words at him.

Mitchell chuckled, that was a yes then. Figuring the baby might be hungry, he moved to the kitchen, looking around for food. When he managed to find some oatmeal and had set to cooking it, he allowed himself to be distracted a moment and focused on Harry who was snuggled up to him, hands clutching tightly onto his shirt. He smiled faintly.

This didn't seem too bad of an idea.


	2. Do It For Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Mitchell has a checklist that he has to do now that Harry is part of his life._

Within a matter of months, Mitchell had changed his life to suit his new occupation. Being a father. He never openly admitted such a thing to himself as of yet but he noted that everything had been a gradual change for him as he spent time with Harry.

The first change he had taken action of was that he surprisingly decided to quit his job to search for a more suitable occupation that could make raising Harry a bit easier.

He remembered how his talk with his boss went down when he told him of his plans to leave bartending. He chuckled at the memory and shook his head.

* * *

_He was glad that he found a young woman willing to babysit Harry that day since he doubted his quiet charge would appreciate the sharp scent of alcohol or the loudness of some customers._

_"What do you mean you're quitting?" His boss, Will, asked, voice raised in disbelief. Mitchell shrugged and looked around the bar to make sure that no one had heard._

_Everyone seemed to be too busy with their own affairs to have heard his boss's exclamation._

_"It's just that...I have my own responsibilities now, Will," He explained lamely, he knew his boss would want more than just that explanation, "I'd be needing to find a job that could help that responsibility and me." Will raised a brow at him and shook his head._

_"Christ, Mitchell, it's not as if you've suddenly got a brat." He grunted out, crossing his arms, Mitchell shifted his weight from one foot to the other uncomfortable at Will's statement. He was tempted to point out that Harry was in no way a brat, his boy was an absolute angel. His mother would have adored Harry. The older - by appearance - man noticed his movement and his eyes widened._

_"When?" Will asked, coaxing Mitchell into sitting, Mitchell complied but he just shook his head and shrugged again. Will growled at him warningly and Mitchell sighed._

_Thank Christ above for the fact that he'd had an entire story planned out._

_"I got a girl, a-a fling, pregnant." He said lamely, Will gave him a look, urging him to go on, "She didn't tell me for a year and suddenly, I got this basket on the front porch scenario and I didn't even realise that he was mine until I read the letter she left." Will shook his head._

_"Christ, can't you give the kid up for adoption?" Mitchell shook his head. He would rather let himself be staked before that happens._

_"He needs me." He said instead, Will nodded._

_"Got a picture?" Will asked, Mitchell looked up to throw a sharp glare at his boss, "Not that I'm doubting you, Mitchell but I just want to see." His boss said hastily, patting Mitchell reassuringly on the back._

_Mitchell's lips twitched at the question. He had a disposable camera that was given to him by a sympathetic vampire, it was meant for him, she told Mitchell. He instead filled the camera's film with pictures of Harry. He had a photo he always brought with him alongside his family picture from when he was still a lad._

_"Of course I have a picture," He answered, taking the picture out from his pocket to hand over to his boss who looked at the photo, "he has his mother's eyes." Mitchell threw in, Will hummed and smiled._

_"Looks like a good lad." Mitchell smiled fondly, Harry was a good lad. No doubt about that._

_"Very." The two men lapsed into silence before Will awkwardly cleared his throat and clapped his hands._

_"Well now that that's settled, I'll go settle your backpay and if you'd like, let's have a last round?" Mitchell pondered on the idea and was about to object when Will held up a hand at him, "On the house, lad." Will assured him. Mitchell sighed and nodded, he may as well have that last round before he went back home._

_When some beer was handed to him and Will sat beside him, they lapsed into a comfortable silence, both pondering on their own thoughts and for Mitchell, his plans. He heard Will clear his throat and he turned to look at his boss who nodded._

_"D'you got a plan in mind for your next job?" His boss asked gruffly, Mitchell shook his head and frowned at his beer bottle._

_"Not really, but I was thinking of just applying as a janitor at a hospital-" He started casually with a shrug that he only wished would look careless but Will shook his head and glared at him._

_"Fuck's sake, Mitchell, you're too damn good for that," Will growled, "you act like a reckless, stupid, rash young man but I've seen enough of you to understand that you're smarter than anyone'd give you credit for." Mitchell looked at him, eyes wide in shock._

_"If you can't think of a better job then you come back here tomorrow and let me help you, yeah?" At first, Mitchell had wanted to object, to assure his now former boss that he'll be fine, but he saw that the look Will gave him brooked no arguments._

_"Fine."_

* * *

So here he was now, on his way to meet with Will at the pub, though he'd made it clear that no way in hell would he be drinking anything too strong. Despite the fact that it was now near impossible for him to get drunk, he would rather not take any chances now that he had someone to look after, someone that helped him forget the gnawing hunger, the maddening thirst.

It was the least he could do for Harry who had helped him feel more human than he had in a good long while.

Waiting at the entrance of the pub, Mitchell took out his cigarette and proceeded to light it. Smoking helped distract him, it dulled his senses for but a moment and he took that moment every chance he could. Of course with Harry now living with him in his house, he refused to smoke anywhere near his boy.

"Mitchell! Over here!" Mitchell found Will walking towards him with a folder stuffed with papers. The amount of papers in that folder made the vampire take a small step back.

"What in god's name is in there?" He asked in the place of a greeting, his former boss only grinned.

"Figured we could look over all the jobs that's open for you then you could make your choice." Will explained as he nodded for Mitchell to follow him.

Following his former employer into the still empty pub, Mitchell entered with hopes for the future he hoped to have.

* * *

They had gone over all their options and Mitchell had explained what he was capable and willing to do. It took them rifling through several sheets to find something he was willing to try. He smiled wryly at the job being asked for in the piece of paper. All his years as an attack dog, all his years since he left Herrick, he had always gone for low paying jobs or jobs that might suit him. He never strayed from the familiar...now he was.

Being a barista might be an interesting job for him.

He thanked Will and they shared a last bottle of beer before he was released by his former employer after a hearty and well meaning pat on the back. He was assured that if he wants to, he could still come back to be a bartender at the pub if Mitchell was willing. Mitchell assured Will that he would come back if the desire is there.

When he got home, he saw the babysitter bouncing Harry on her lap, he smiled at the sight. She was a nice young lady with too much time on her hands as she'd told him. He only knew her from the many good mornings they exchanged ever since he arrived at Surrey. Paying her and sending her off, he looked at Harry who was playing on the floor watching him curiously.

"D'you have fun while I was gone?" He asked, picking his son up and pressing a swift kiss to Harry's cheek. Harry babbled at him in a string of undecipherable words while patting his cheek. Mitchell grinned.

"Sounds like you had a full day." Balancing Harry on his hip, he went to the kitchen and checked the cupboards for some food that he'd stashed away where Harry can't reach them. His boy was already starting to get curious so he didn't want Harry poking around anything dangerous.

Smiling to himself, Mitchell crossed off an item off of his mental checklist. Now that he has a job in mind, he needed to get documents.

He grimaced at the thought of having to approach Herrick.  _This is for Harry._  A part of his mind whispered, he sighed and agreed silently. Everything he was doing was for his boy. Everything was for Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading this story and I hope you like chapter two! Please don't hesitate to leave a comment, I'd love to hear what you guys think of this!


	3. Not While I'm Around

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell calls Herrick, Herrick makes sense and MItchell get emotional.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm still gushing over the support you guys have given me in regards to this fanfic and I really want to thank you all for commenting on it since the comments had been the driving force for me with this fic. I hope you guys enjoyed this short chapter since I think next chapter we're seeing Herrick and sorry in advance y'all I'm trying to redeem everyone except for Voldemort. ;;w;; I think Baby Harry brings out the best in a lot of people. TuT

Contacting Herrick was not something that Mitchell does frequently nor with enthusiasm, it often would lead to Herrick reminding him of a favour owed. But here he was now, punching in Herrick's phone number and waiting impatiently for the older vampire to answer the call. He had already put Harry down for his nap and he figured he might as well get this over with.

"Mitchell , I was wondering when you'd call." Hearing the casual friendly tone Herrick often used on his victims was enough to make the dark haired vampire bristle in anger.

"I'm not your toy, Herrick." He growled out, Herrick only chuckled.

"Of course you're not." The patronising and indulgent tone of voice that Herrick used always tempted Mitchell to find a way to stake him. But he had to push down those urges and attempt as much civility in his tone that he could muster.

"What can I help you with, Mitchell?" Biting back a sarcastic reply, Mitchell took a few moments to properly compose his thoughts.

"I need papers." Herrick chuckled and Mitchell once more had to hold himself back.

"Planning to leave the country, eh?" Herrick's voice was interested but he also sensed a predatory tone in them, Mitchell had to restrain himself from snarling any insults to his progenitor.

"No. I need custody papers." There was silence on the other line which left Mitchell feeling a mite bit smug but mostly anxious. He heard Herrick take in a breath that neither of them needed before he spoke.

"Custody, Mitchell?" There was curiosity, a hungry curiosity in that supposedly interested friendly voice that Herrick always used and Mitchell felt a protectiveness coil around the pit of his stomach when he heard Herrick speak. "And who, if I may ask, are you planning to take under your wing?"

_Who would be so gullible as to trust you? To believe you're capable of caring for a life?_

Mitchell bristled at the unspoken taunt and he clenched his jaw, taking in a short breath as he fought to keep his calm, "It's none of your business." He meant it to come out as a calm statement but what had come out was more of a possessive growl which caused an amused chuckle from Herrick.

"Mitchell, I think I should consider it my business when you've decided to take a pet in." Mitchell held back a snarl at the implication that his  _son_ , his perfectly beautiful son was nothing but a pet to Herrick.

"He is  _not_  a pet, Herrick." He bit out, his tone nearing vicious. "He is a person."  _A child. A child that needed a family._

There was silence again on the line and Mitchell hated the dread that had replaced all the anger and irritation he'd felt earlier.

He heard a sigh on the other line.

"Very well, Mitchell. But you'll have to tell me what I need to bring." There was also the unspoken reminder of a favour he would owe Herrick later on down the road.

Too relieved to bother thinking about what he would say, Mitchell hurriedly blurted out what he had been thinking of for a rather long time now.

"Birth certificate, custody papers, anything to legalise the parentage of a child."

"A...child." Herrick repeated, Mitchell just let out a grunt of confirmation.

What Herrick had said next had surprised him, especially with the tone of voice his progenitor had used.

"Mitchell, loathe as I am to say it but we cannot let anyone take care of children." There was a pause before Herrick continued, the older man spoke with such uncertainty and pain that it made Mitchell reel back in shock. Since when had Herrick expressed such emotions?

"Especially those who say they're off the wagon, sooner or later that child would get a scrape and we would be tempted. But we have regular feedings, you on the other hand don't." Mitchell knew the implications, he knew the hints and jabs that Herrick had used and he tried not to flinch.

It was fine. He had taken precautions to Harry's safety. He made sure that his house was made safe for his son. Everything will be fine. It  _had_  to be fine. He  _won't_  come off the wagon and he  _won't_  hurt his son.

"I won't hurt him, Herrick." He growled out, his voice dripping with venom. There was a laugh, it was bitter and disbelieving.

"Mitchell, how many lovers have you had that you promised safety to? My boy, you will  _always_  end up hurting everyone." The statement was enough to make Mitchell's blood run cold. "And it doesn't matter how hard you try. Even the smallest paper cut will drive you  _mad._ "

"I  _won't_  hurt my son." Mitchell managed to inject the right amount of spite in him before he had to hold his breath to hear Herrick's response.

Herrick sighed and then there was a short silence for a few moments' time.

"If you say so, Mitchell." Mitchell was about to respond when Herrick added, "But don't say I didn't warn you."

When the line went dead, Mitchell all but slammed the phone back down onto the receiver, his breath quickening as he fought to keep himself together. The unspoken reminder of all the people he had loved and vowed to protect, all the people that had mattered so much to him, the words and screams that he'd heard rang in his ears and he squeezed his eyes shut. Anything to keep the memories of those he'd killed away from the forefront of his mind.

Suddenly feeling a tightness in his chest and the welling desperation of needing to see Harry safe and whole, he bolted up the stairs leading to his room where he had put Harry to nap in. Throwing the door open, he looked at his son ( _his son_ ) sleeping. It was reassuring to see Harry hale and safe but he still needed more, taking a few careful steps towards his bed he picked Harry up and held his sleeping child close to his chest.

"I love you," He whispered to his son softly, his breath hitching as he spoke, "I love you and I'll try to never hurt you."

He'll make sure to it even if it kills him that he would never lay a finger on his son.

The next day he came home from the store with blocks of wood that he began sharpening, noticing Harry curiously eyeing him he smiled a little too tightly at his son.

"You'll need them in case your Da becomes a monster and you need to be the hero."

 


	4. Fathers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herrick proves to be deeper than he likes to show and Mitchell likes to tease Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OML How long has it been since ,y last update?? I was actually worried on how to write this chapter for a long time so I'm so sorry for the lack of updates on my end TwT though I hope you enjoy this chapter! Especially the tiny piece of fluff I did at the ending!

Herrick looked at the child that Mitchell had led him to. A boy with green eyes, he was babbling random words that Herrick assumed was coherent in the ways children always seemed to think. He smiled indulgently at the boy who smiled brightly and clapped his hands. Beside the boy was Mitchell whose jaw was clenched as he watched Herrick interact with the child.

"Lovely boy." Herrick commented, holding out his finger to Harry who grasped it and brought it to his mouth. Herrick felt his lips curl into a faint smile.

"And?" Mitchell's voice was harsh, the older vampire could guess that his companion was expecting a deal. Or a warning. Or rejection. He sighed.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Mitchell." Herrick warned as he took out the papers he'd managed to get from subordinates and allies, dumping them on the table for Mitchell to look over, "Adopting a human, it's dangerous."

Mitchell looked at Herrick and the older vampire saw fear in his eyes, "I know, Herrick, you don't have to remind me." He snapped, though he could see Mitchell falter. Herrick nodded.

"The birth certificate, papers showing you as the legal guardian and father, everything else you'd need, they're all there, we just need a signature." Without even blinking, Mitchell had taken out a pen and had signed the documents before nodding to Herrick.

"We're done."

Herrick supposed Mitchell expected him to leave the moment business was concluded, but he just stayed still and watched with mild fascination as the child continued to bite on his finger. He chuckled.

"I'd forgotten how children were like." He commented, pulling his hand away from the boy and wiping away the saliva, "I think the last child I'd come near to was one I met during the second War," He could remember seeing frightened brown eyes as she tried to speak past the blood frothing at her lips, he remembered desperate parents begging for Mr. Herrick to please save their little girl, that they can't bear to bury another. Not another body, please. And a part of him, his humanity, was brought to light and he turned her.

Of course, he'd never tell Mitchell that he'd done such things whenever Mitchell went on the wagon. He knew that Mitchell would think that he would give up blood to keep children safe. What Mitchell was doing was dangerous and a risk to a life. But he decided he shall not meddle so he shall not.

"What is your son's name?" Herrick spoke out of habit, whenever there was a child, he always wanted to know their names. His wife wanted children when she was still his and he was still warm and it became custom for both of them to ask about names from their friends. He supposed that habit would never go away.

He looked at Mitchell and gave a wry smile, he could tell that Mitchell was against revealing the boy's name but really, it seemed that Mitchell had forgotten that he had helped file the documents for legal guardianship and that he already knew.

It was just polite to say the name.

"Declan." Herrick barked out a laugh, it was a part of the boy's name so he won't press any further but he couldn't find it in himself to hold back his chuckles.

"After your father?" The glare resulting from his question did not faze him. He expected as much, Mitchell's father was honourable and kind, he was a fine namesake to have.

"My father's name is a clean one." And of course, there's also that. Declan Mitchell, the devout Catholic who never believed in lashings in an era where it was still acceptable. Declan Mitchell who would join his wife in their garden, Declan Mitchell who taught his son to be kind and happy and to be gentle with women. Declan Mitchell was everything good and fair in Mitchell that vampirism had taken away.

"Is it safe to assume that if this was a daughter, you would have named her Moira?" The sharp intake of breath his ward Took affirmed his hunch.

"I promised them that if I became a father, I would give my children their names because they were the best people to share names with." Herrick nodded, he knew it went deeper than a childhood promise, that this instinct stems from Mitchell's guilt and self-loathing that he prays would never be passed onto his son.

"Your parents would be proud." He wasn't certain of that, but his confidence was easily masked that it would fool anyone. Though from Mitchell's doubtful expression, he figured that the lad didn't believe him.

Getting up from the couch, he patted the boy's head one final time before he passed by Mitchell and sighed.

"Take care of your son, my boy, and do make sure that you get something other than human food in you." If Mitchell was to survive then he would need to feed unless his son gets accidentally cut and he is unable to help himself.

When Herrick had left, he looked back at his interaction with Mitchell. His ward was still hostile to him, but he didn't have a shouting match with him or even start a fistfight against one another. That hadn't happened in decades. Though thinking back, he realised that Mitchell's affections for his new son may have brought memories of his parents and he shook his head. The boy was in for more heartbreak if the child is just a mortal.

Mitchell had watched his parents age and die from a distance, coming only in the dead of the night as if he were but a dream, he would speak with his parents for a few hours before helping them to their beds and kissing them. Mitchell had always taken hold of the rosaries they would hand to him and Herrick had always needed to tend to burns and blisters afterwards. But his ward always seemed more at peace when he did that. So he allowed Mitchell his nightly visits and would watch over the house to ensure its safety. But when Declan and Moira passed, it was as if a part of Mitchell passed as well. And Herrick worried that Mitchell would die completely if his son died as well.

Well, that won't do.

It appears he shall have to keep an eye on John Mitchell and Harry Declan Mitchell from here on out.

* * *

 

Mitchell had kept an eye on Herrick until he was certain his progenitor won't be returning when his back was turned. When he was finally certain that Herrick was gone, he turned to look at Harry who was trying to stuff his fist into his mouth. Mitchell chuckled and shook his head.

"That's not food, Harry, don't eat that." Picking his son up, he took the boy's hand away from his mouth and pressed a kiss against the small hand.

"Da!" Mitchell chuckled and leaned close to press his nose against the boy's.

"Yes, I'm your Da." He murmured, crinkling his eyes in delight when Harry reached up to pat his cheek, repeating the word again and again.

Balancing Harry on his hip, he proceeded to go to the kitchen and to sort through the documents he needed to organise. He hated doing anything with paperwork but if it was necessary, he would.

Plopping his son into a high-chair, he sat at the seat next to his son's and began segregating files for himself and files he needs for Harry so that he won't lose them. His files were easily replaceable, but Harry's would be a bit more of a challenge to get if he had to go to Herrick again.

"Daaaa…" The moment Harry whined, Mitchell stopped his sorting and got up. He already figured out Harry's little noises and tones and around this time, it would be time for Harry to have his snack. Taking some bananas, he mashed them and drizzled honey into the bowl. Apparently, Harry had a fondness for this when he was only messing around with things he could feed his son.

Returning to Harry's side, he sat down and showed the bowl to Harry who let out an excited squeal and clapped his hands before making what Mitchell had decided to call Harry's "grabby hands". He chuckled at the sight and took a spoonful.

"Is this for Harry?" He asked in mock innocence, Harry excited noises affirmed that yes, it was Harry's.

.is it for Da?" He turned the spoon slightly to himself and Harry let out a distressed whine and shook his head.

"No!" The betrayed expression Harry wore had Mitchell chuckling and shaking his head before he brought the spoonful to Harry's mouth. His son immediately grabbed the spoon's handle and proceeded to shove the utensil in his mouth, though some of the mashed bananas did fall out his mouth which Mitchell found rather endearing.

"Of course not, Da doesn't like these stuff." He had grown used to speaking like this ever since he took Harry in. It was nice to let loose like these, to smile freely and to see a fresh start whenever he sees those clear green eyes.

Harry smiled through the mess of his food and made his "grabby hands" again and Mitchell smiled.

"Alright, alright, don't rush me." After feeding Harry another spoonful, he remembered the paperwork he had to sort through and he just shook his head. He could do them later when Harry's asleep. He didn't need sleep as much anymore so he has nothing to worry about.

Right now, Harry is his first priority.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you guys think? Did you like it? It's my first time doing a Harry Potter fanfic, even a Being Human (UK) fanfic so I hope you guys like this! I like playing with the idea of Harry being taken in by Mitchell so yeah. Hope you enjoyed, please tell me what you think!


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